Kintsugi
by jaibhagwan
Summary: S4 AU. Carol was everything to him and then she was lost. When Daryl finally finds her again, everything has changed except his feelings for her. Can he help her remember the goodness inside of her the way she once did for him? Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery using gold to mend the seams. Is there a better metaphor for Caryl? I think not.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own The Walking Dead or any of the characters. I'm also not a professional writer. Your feedback is my only payment.

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_**The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. ~ Ernest Hemingway**_

Chapter 1

They found her battered body inside the trailer coiled loosely on the floor. If it wasn't for the unique short style of her hair and her bag sitting on the table she would not have been recognizable. _Carol_. Her face was swollen and covered in bruises. Her bottom lip was busted open and the blood had pooled and dried on her chin. She was naked, caked in mud, and blood was smeared down her legs and over her emaciated body. Her hands and feet were bound by chicken wire that was cutting into her wrists and ankles. _No, no, no! Not this._ Daryl took off his jacket immediately and covered her, fighting the disgust that was seething in his stomach for the state she was in. White hot anger lit his fists on fire. He wanted to kill something. He settled for kicking in one of the paneled cabinet doors, splintering the wood door in half. He ripped another off its hinges with his bare hands and smashed it to smithereens against the countertop. It didn't stop the agony from slicing through his chest. This couldn't be happening.

Michonne knelt beside her and gingerly took her wrist in her hand to feel for her pulse. "She's alive, but barely. She needs medical attention. I think she has some broken ribs. Probably a concussion."

_She's alive._ He let out the breath he was holding. Pushing the anger aside, he sprung into action, pulling the multi-tool from his pocket and kneeling down on the other side of her. He cut the wire around her ankles first, wincing as his fingers lightly grazed her purple, inflamed skin. He felt the painful echoes of her bruises on his own skin like a sensory memory. Some things were never forgotten. Gently, he unwound the wire pulling it away from her delicate skin. The wounds bled a little as he did so. He did the same to her wrists but when he pulled the wire away he held onto one of her hands and tenderly rubbed the wound with his thumb. The fragility of her skin betrayed the strength he knew she had.

"Carol!" he exclaimed trying to rouse her. The tears swelled in his eyes and threatened to spill over. _Please_, he begged silently. He ran his fingers over her hair, the only place he thought it looked like it didn't hurt. "Carol, wake up." The words were piercing and frantic.

She didn't stir.

He swallowed the tears leaving a lump in his throat. "You think it's safe to move her?" he squeaked doubtfully. He looked at Michonne with an urgent hope.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," Michonne replied, remarking to herself how much younger the apprehension had made Daryl suddenly appear. "From the looks of the camp out there, the assholes who did this could likely come back."

"Let 'em," he growled quickly. "They'll be wishin' they were dead." He slammed his fist onto the floor.

"Believe me, I want them to pay just as much as you do for what they've done to her, but she can't wait for vengeance." She had no doubt he'd seek it. "We have to get her out of here."

He knew she was right. He focused on the sting of the impact vibrating up his arm. Flexing his hand, he redirected the anger pumping through his veins. "I can't…I'm gonna carry her, but not…not like this. We gotta…she needs…fuck!" Desperately, he looked around the empty trailer for something to cover her with. He grabbed her bag and searched through it finding nothing useful. It had been plundered and anything of value had already been taken.

He started unbuttoning his shirt. He narrowed his eyes at Michonne daring her to say a word as he slowly removed his shirt. She said nothing. "Will you…cover her?" he asked hesitantly as he handed her his shirt.

Michonne took it and nodded. She knew what he meant. He wanted to protect Carol's modesty. When he turned himself away, Michonne saw the scars on his own back, but said nothing to him to indicate she'd noticed them. Her respect for him only deepened. She wrapped his shirt around the lower half of Carol's body like a skirt. She did several of the buttons up the front and tied the sleeves around her waist. Then she sat behind Carol's head and grabbed her gently under the arms to pull her up into a sitting position. She guided her arms into the sleeves of Daryl's jacket and zipped it up.

Daryl turned around when he heard the zipper. Carol looked so tiny to him laying there against Michonne wrapped in his clothing. Her wounds were still weeping. He cut the sleeves off the shirt and tore the material into strips. He wrapped the material around the wounds on her wrists and ankles to stop the bleeding. When he was finished, he put his bag on his back and slid the strap of his crossbow across his shoulder.

He picked her up carefully, remembering the last time he had her in his arms in this way when he carried her from the tombs. Comparatively, she was so much lighter now, nearly brittle, he thought he was going to crush her in his arms. Cautiously, he followed Michonne out of the trailer and back into the woods.

He wasn't sure how far away from the prison they were. But they were about two days from a housing development where he knew they could find a car. He had been searching for Carol for the past month after Rick had told him he'd banished her for killing Karen and David. He'd tried to insinuate that Carol had killed them in cold-blood, but Daryl had known better.

Rick had been slipping since Lori died. He had been slowly losing contact with reality. He was hallucinating, seeing visions of his dead wife and talking to ghosts. He was having trouble accepting reality. Hershel thought it was some type of grief-induced psychotic break. Everyone thought he had been getting better since he had stepped away from the leadership role and took up farming.

"Working the earth is very good for the soul," Hershel proclaimed to the council when they'd finally started the garden shortly after the remaining folks from Woodbury had been integrated into the prison. "It can heal a broken heart."

It seemed like it was working until a new crisis erupted at the prison a few months later. A deadly flu had broken out causing people to hemorrhage out of their eyes and slowly choke on their own bodily fluids. After dying in the night shortly after showing symptoms of the sickness, Patrick had turned and started feeding on people in their sleep. Chaos had broken out in Cellblock D as people panicked over this new threat. Karen and David were next to show symptoms and they were quickly isolated from the rest of the group. After Karen and David's bodies were found burnt to a crisp, more people became infected and the virus had spread like wildfire to half the population. Tyreese had been angry and looking for someone to blame for Karen's death. Rick had lost the remnants of his mental stability on Tyreese and beaten him senseless before Daryl could get him off the man. Shortly afterwards, Daryl had left with Michonne, Tyreese, and Bob to fetch medicine from a veterinary school a few days away.

They had returned to complete chaos at the prison. People were dying left and right from the virus and the outer fence, weakened by the Governor's attack, had finally collapsed allowing walkers inside the inner prison yard. In the end, they only managed to save Glenn, Sasha, and Lizzie with the medicine. Daryl had expected to see Carol by Lizzie's side since she had gotten sick right before he left. But he couldn't find her anywhere. When Rick had told him he'd made the decision to exile Carol on his own, without consulting the council, Daryl was furious. Rick's grasp on reality was tenuous at best and he had been removed from any leadership position. He had no authority to make such a decision. Daryl discussed his concerns about Rick's sanity with the other council members and they agreed to keep an eye on him while Daryl left to find Carol and bring her home.

When Michonne had found out what happened she volunteered to come with him. She knew he would need assistance. Daryl had helped her track down the Governor so she could avenge Andrea's death. They had become good friends in the process and she felt she owed it to him, even though she knew Daryl had been seeking his own revenge for his brother Merle.

Within a week, they had found the car Carol had taken which he'd persuaded Rick to describe to him before they left. It was abandoned, Daryl had gathered, for engine problems. The keys were in the ignition and there was half a can of gas in the trunk. He had been hopeful when he'd picked up her trail on the moist soil in the woods grateful that she'd done the smart thing and stayed off the road. They'd found a few of the camps she'd set up and a few slain walker corpses along the trail that suggested she was still alive. It had given him hope. Her tracks were a week old and covered with dead leaves, so reading them was a laborious process and slowed them down.

Soon, however, Daryl picked up additional human foot prints. There were at least two sets of male tracks. His stomach clenched when he realized they were also tracking her. He could barely sleep and kept insisting they push forward. He knew they were still too far behind her to intervene. A few days later, he found evidence of a struggle. Her tracks disappeared. They never found a body so he hoped she was still alive. They continued to track the men's prints and eventually hers resurfaced again. However, the realization had made his blood boil. She had been injured and was limping.

He became distraught as he relentlessly pursued her. He was barely sleeping and eating. He knew what some men were capable of, and at night, he dreamed of every horror he could imagine. The agony of not knowing what was happening to her was driving him mad. Michonne kept at him, reminding him to sleep and eat.

"Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed. You'll be no good to her a dead man," she warned him. "You need to keep your strength up."

Yes, Michonne had kept him sane.

After traveling for a couple of hours, they stopped to rest by a stream. Daryl laid Carol on a flat rock at the water's edge. He took the red rag from his back pocket and wet it in the cool water. He gently wiped away the dirt and blood from her face and then let it rest against the bruise on her eye and the swelling of her cheek. After a while he rinsed the rag again in the water, attempting to keep it cool against her skin.

Michonne passed him an expired energy bar. He tried to refuse it but she gave him a long, hard stare. "You need it for her," was all she said. Reluctantly, he ate it. She was right; he was going to need all the strength he could muster if he planned to continue to carry Carol to safety. Now that he'd found her, there was no way he was going to leave her side to go off and hunt, especially considering her condition.

He refreshed the rag again and again while they rested. He hoped it was helping. When they left the stream, he thought some of the swelling had gone down some. It gave him some relief.

He was exhausted but fueled by his sheer determination to return her to the prison and to the family that loved her. He wasn't sure how Tyreese would respond, but Daryl knew the man had no malice in his heart. When they had returned to the prison after the medicine run, Tyreese's sister, Sasha, had been knocking on death's door. He had to know then that Karen's death was inevitable. Carol likely kept her from suffering and turning.

Daryl's arms ached from the weight of her, but his heart ached more from the weight of the sorrow and guilt he carried for the state she was in. If he had only gotten to her sooner maybe he could have done something about it. The load grew with each heavy step he took as he worried for her well-being. Every time they stopped, he ran the wet rag over her lips, concerned that she was dehydrated.

When they finally stopped for the night, Daryl set some snares up around their camp hoping to catch something for breakfast. The sweat was dripping off him from his efforts. The night air was cold, but he took no notice of his own discomfort.

Exhausted, he lay down next to Carol and noticed the swelling was still grotesquely warping her features. He longed to see the smile that used to linger there. The memories of one of the last times he'd seen her with a smile on her face flickered into his mind. It was a smile he had put there. He had been so bold, so unconcerned about his blatant flirtation that day. She made him feel that anything was possible. She had given him hope. She had given him her faith. It had been wholly unconditional. She'd made him feel he was worth the effort of dealing with his moods and his doubts about himself and everyone else. It had been something close to a miracle that he had grown to feel like a man of worth. A man who could be worthy of her. Somehow, he had allowed her behind the wall and it made him stronger. Her love had made him a better man.

They had been eating breakfast and she had been recalling something amusing that Judith had done. Her face had been animated as she told the story and the light filtering through the prison windows had only accentuated her beauty. She had been so caught up in the telling of the tale that she had become careless with the oatmeal she had been eating. The spoon had left an errant morsel on the outside of her lip. He couldn't take his eyes off it. She looked adorable, so much younger than her years. He couldn't help but feel youthful himself around her.

"Are you even listening to me?" she had inquired lightly.

"Always," he assured her looking straight into those deep blue pools of her eyes, drinking her in, and then allowing his eyes to wander slowly back to her lips. They were so soft and inviting. He wondered if they tasted warm. He had licked his own lips in anticipation. He hadn't meant to. It was simply an automatic response to his hidden desire. He had been so obvious about it, he was sure the gesture clearly betrayed his thoughts. He wondered if she had noticed.

"Something on your mind, Daryl?" she smirked.

"Always," he had repeated. She was always on his mind. It was in this moment he'd realized he was done hiding his feelings for her. Something had told him she wouldn't mind them. He didn't care what anyone else thought. So, he'd leaned across the table then, reaching for her cheek with his hand. His fingers had stopped to smooth the unruly curls behind her ear before settling against her delicate jaw line. His thumb brushed slowly against her soft lips before encountering the spot of oatmeal that lingered near the corner of her lip. Even when he had wiped it away, his thumb remained tracing the warm contours of her lips. He finally pulled his hand away and stuck his thumb into his mouth, sucking the tiny piece of oatmeal away that had only moments ago been touching her lips. The brilliance of her smile at his reaction had only made the moment sweeter. He had felt it light him from within.

The memory felt bittersweet and heavy in his chest as he looked at the gash on her lip. He wondered if it would scar her perfect smile. He was certain she would only become more beautiful to him if that were the case. He curled around her body protectively before falling asleep. Michonne sat down behind his back to help him stay warm and kept watch. He didn't ask her to. He wouldn't. She knew he would have let himself freeze to death before he allowed Carol to suffer a moment more.

He loved her. It had been obvious to Michonne from the moment she'd arrived at the prison. She had watched their family reunion from the other side of the cellblock door. She had seen the love they shared for one another and it made her remember a part of herself that she had locked away after Mike's betrayal. And Andrea's. Daryl was a good man, a hothead, but he was honorable. He was deeply loyal and she respected him for that.

She let him sleep a long time knowing he'd need it. She woke him close to daybreak when she could no longer keep her eyes open. She took his place beside Carol when he got up to take a piss. The earth was warm where he had lain and she had fallen asleep quickly. Shortly after dawn, he checked the snares and found a rabbit that had been trapped. He skinned and prepared it for roasting over the small fire he built. By the time Michonne arose, it had been fully cooked. He handed her a sizable portion and consumed the rest.

He knelt down beside Carol's limp body. The swelling of her face was noticeably decreased. He could see the outline of her delicate cheekbones. He lightly traced the backs of his fingers along the fine ridges he saw protruding and sorrowfully recalled the beauty that lay beneath her wounds.

He'd failed to protect her. He never anticipated that the threat would come from within the prison, from someone he'd considered family. How could he have known?

"It wasn't your fault," Michonne said reading his mind. They had spent a lot of time together chasing down the Governor and she had come to understand his moods. She knew they were both prone to brooding. "There was nothing you could have done."

He knew she was right, he just hated the way he felt and he was used to blaming himself for everything that went wrong. Some patterns were hard to break.

"She was worried about the girls, felt like she was gettin' in over her head takin' them on after Ryan died. Didn't think she was ready. But she wanted to do right by them to make up for –" he felt her name like a stone in his gut, "for Sophia."

"After the outbreak, I knew somethin' was eatin' at her. So I just lied an' told her I was fine. Had to be. Couldn't tell her the truth. Didn't want to add to her worry. Maybe if I had, she wouldn'ta had to feel so alone. Maybe we coulda figured it out together. I shoulda known! Damn woman hated to feel like a burden. I knew that! I shoulda stuck around and listened instead of runnin' away from my own feelin's about it." _Like a fuckin' coward._

"She thought she was alone. _I_ made her feel that way. Me! I coulda stopped it all if I'da listened. If I'da just been there for her the way she'd always been for me." The tears burned in his eyes.

"You can't play that game. You can't possibly know that. It will eat you up inside if you keep thinking that way. Then what? All that matters is that you're there for her now. Trust me, she's gonna need you to be. So _be_ there for her. Don't cover yourself in that shit and hide away. It ain't about you no more."

Michonne was right. He couldn't selfishly wallow in self-doubt. When Carol recovered, she would need him to be strong for her. He had to step up and quit burying himself in his feelings. It would do nothing to help Carol.

He removed the rag that was resting on Carol's cheek and ran his fingers over her head. Carol moaned lightly and began to stir slightly.

"Carol?" His voice was tender. "Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

Carol's eyes barely fluttered open before closing again. "Please," she whimpered softly.

The single plea was a knife in his chest. "S'gonna be okay. You're safe now," he told her with wet eyes as he stroked her head.

Her eyes opened again, rolling back as they tried to focus. "Daryl?"

"Yeah, it's me," he reassured her. "I'm here now."

Her eyes closed once more as she moaned. "Please," she begged again. The words were barely audible before she passed out. "Just kill me."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** I've been blown away by all your reviews and support. Thank you so much for taking time to share your thoughts. They give me warm squishy feelings! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I apologize for any typos, I usually repost if I find any after I publish. Sorry if that's annoying. I'll update as I can. -jb

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**Chapter 2**

The air was suddenly sucked out of his lungs.

_Please. _

She had implored him. Her piteous words assailed him as they played over and over in his head.

_Kill me._

They blasted into his skin, deepening the cracks in his confidence, and plunging him into despair. He imagined her misery, her unaided fear, and his own memories of being confined and violently oppressed began to inundate him. The panic thrummed in his ears.

He felt Michonne's hand suddenly on his shoulder pulling him away from his thoughts. "Stop," she said. She kept her hand on his shoulder as if to anchor him.

He didn't flinch. He'd gotten used to the tender human contact people normally engaged in when they valued you. Carol had taught him that. He had slowly learned to trust the others in his family. He knew what the light touches conveyed. _I care about you. I support you. I'm glad you're here._ They were new concepts to him and they still felt odd, but he had stopped pulling away from the affection. He allowed himself to accept the personal contact as a necessary kindness. He learned to tolerate the initial discomfort from the closeness and let the feeling behind the touch sink in and soothe the jagged insecurities that lay deep in his core. He came to appreciate the comfort these soft touches brought to him. They felt good. They filled the empty hollow inside that made him feel inadequate, unloveable. He'd even begun to reach out and offer his own clumsy efforts if he thought it might help. And sometimes he did so because he found he enjoyed making a physical connection with someone he cared about. It made him feel whole.

So, even while he felt his heart rupturing into shards, he could also feel himself infused by Michonne's strength as she stood behind him, reinforcing his resolve. He wiped the back of his hand across his wet cheeks and wheezed in a deep, shaky breath. He wasn't alone in this.

He nodded his head in acceptance. For his own good–_for Carol's_–he had to stay out of his head. He struggled to keep breathing slowly and deeply. The air burned as he drew it in, but with each breath, he felt a little better, a little more together. This was not the place to fall apart.

After a while, he was calmer, more focused. Determined. Though it hurt worse than any beating he'd ever taken, this wasn't really about him. It was about what Carol needed. For once, she needed him to be the strong one. Gently, he gathered her into his weary arms once again and they continued their long, slow journey home.

The trek was brutal. He was actually relieved she was unconscious so she didn't have to feel any pain. They encountered a few handfuls of walkers along the way which Michonne deftly dispatched with her katana. He felt torn about fighting; he wanted to lend a hand, but Carol was helpless in her condition and there was no place to safely leave her to join the fray. So he hid in the shadows with her as Michonne drew the attention to herself. He felt guilty that he could not assist her as he listened to her katana sing and slash through the walkers' skulls. Still, he knew Michonne could handle herself and was appreciative that she had come with him. He couldn't imagine what he would have done if he'd found Carol on his own. He couldn't have done it alone. It would have broken him. How the hell had he ever believed the lie that he was better on his own?

They stopped every few hours so Daryl could rest. Each time, he devotedly took out his rag and tended to the contusions on Carol's face. He ignored the soreness that had crept into his arms. His growing concern for her prodded him onward.

Late in the afternoon, they arrived in the evacuated subdivision. After some searching, they found a small 4-door sedan and hotwired it. Michonne drove while Daryl sat in the back with Carol, her head resting in his lap. He slowly caressed her, running his fingers along her hairline, ruefully longing to take her injuries onto himself.

At one point Carol opened her eyes again. She was disoriented and had trouble focusing. She groaned as she tried to move. Her head lifted barely an inch off Daryl's lap before limply falling back again. "No!" she mewled as her arms feebly lashed out in a spastic manner.

Her whimpers cut him to the quick. "Shhh! S'okay," he soothed her. "S'okay." He slid his fingers across her matted locks, the pads of his fingers brushing the soft skin at tip of her ear. He wanted to howl in anguish as she became motionless once again. So he bit his lip and dug the fingers of his other hand into the seat, white-knuckling his way through the rest of the ride.

The twilight sky had split into darkening ribbons of orange and magenta when they finally arrived at the prison. Michonne flashed the headlight signal to notify whoever was on watch that it was them arriving. Maggie and Sasha welcomed them at the gate with large smiles.

"We need your father," Michonne said to Maggie through the opened window.

Maggie nodded, her smile quickly fell from her face when she met Michonne's serious demeanor. "He's with Beth in C Block."

Michonne drove up to the building and parked the car just outside the door to the cellblock. Carl came outside when he heard the car pull up. "You're back!" he shouted jubilantly as Michonne exited the vehicle.

"We are," Michonne responded pleasantly, casting him a wide grin. She was fond of the kid.

"Did you find her?" Hope clung to the edge of his voice.

"We did." Her smile quickly faded as she opened the back door to assist Daryl. "Need you to go find Hershel now and tell him we're comin' with her."

Carl nodded, his face turning serious by the task he was given, and quickly went inside.

By the time Daryl came through the door with Carol in his arms, the others had started to gather in the main room. Their faces appeared as grim as he felt.

"Oh my gosh, Carol," Glenn gasped in shock.

Rick tried to approach Daryl, but Glenn held him back. Daryl made his way towards the cells and placed Carol on the bottom bunk in the cell that Hershel ushered him into.

Hershel professionally masked his shock and horror and got down to business. "How long has she been unconscious?"

"Dunno exactly. Found her yesterday mornin'. Out cold. She came to briefly this mornin' and again in the car." His voice cracked as he felt the chill of her plea cutting through him once again. _Just kill me. _

"That's a good sign," Hershel assured him. He limped his way over to Carol and began his examination.

Michonne reappeared beside Daryl. "Let the man do his job. You need to eat something," she told him trying to pry him away. She handed him a clean shirt to try to sweeten the appeal.

Reluctantly, Daryl left the cell, putting the shirt on, and walked past the concerned faces towards their makeshift kitchen to find something to eat. They seemed to know to keep their distance. He looked around at the shelves. Everything was neatly organized. The bowls were stacked, the utensils were sorted by type, the food stores were arranged to easily take inventory. Everything reminded him of Carol. She was nestled into every nook and cranny. This was her domain. The entire place reeked of her. _She's the goddamn backbone._ He grabbed some oatmeal and put some water on to boil. It was all he could manage as the tension within him started to build. Something on the wall nearby caught his eye as he grabbed a plastic bowl from the shelf. It was a Polaroid of Judith. Her face was covered in mashed carrots. She was beaming that infectious, toothless grin of hers. _"If that's not pure joy, then I don't know what is," _he remembered Carol telling him as she snapped the photo with the camera Glenn had picked up on a run. It was one of those little things Carol did for all of them. She garnished the place with love. The sight of it knocked the wind out of him and sent him careening over the edge. He burst into tears. _She don't deserve none o' this._

That was when Rick decided to approach him. His face was full of sadness as he witnessed Daryl's disintegration. Rick had been convinced of Carol's impenitent indifference. He thought she was a threat to them all. He didn't want her around his kids, his family. But then everything had gone to hell so quickly. He hadn't known Daryl would feel differently. Rick knew he was protective of the group. Tyreese had been thirsty for vengeance and Daryl had told him they were on the same side. Rick had been so certain he'd made the right decision. Hadn't Maggie agreed he'd done the right thing? But then Daryl had run off to find Carol and Michonne had gone with him. _Michonne._ Rick hadn't quite understood their alliance. But it was the way Carl had looked at him when he learned what Rick had done to Carol that haunted him the most. He was ashamed of his own father.

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I-" He tried to clasp him on the shoulder, but Daryl shrugged off his sympathy.

"What did you expect? Huh? Sendin' a woman out there. _Alone!_" And a tiny one at that. The image of her frail figure lying in the trailer intruded in his mind's eye. He would have gouged out his own eyes to never have to see that again. His fingers gripped the bowl. The woman was strong, capable even, but she wasn't invincible. Not on her own. No one could make it on their own anymore. Even together, given enough pressure, they were all breakable. Rick had reached his own limits, and it splintered his mind, but he had been intolerant of anyone else's breaking point. Shane's. Lori's. Carol's. Daryl felt like he had reached his own.

"Makin' that decision on your own? That's why we set up the damn council in the first place!" The anger flooded into his hands. He flung the bowl against the wall and it clattered noisily to the concrete floor.

His fists grew rigid with rage. He took a step towards Rick. "After everything we've been through… After what I've done for you…How could you think I'd ever be okay with it? That any of us would?" he bellowed, the agony of Rick's decision staining his dirty face in shiny wet trails.

"I-I thought she was a danger to us," Rick tried to explain.

With both hands, Daryl grabbed Rick by his shirt and pushed him roughly against the wall. He wanted to strike Rick in his face to make him feel how much his actions had hurt him. Maybe he could knock some sense into the man. But despite what he'd done, Rick was still family and Daryl cared about him. He didn't want to be like his father and take his grief out on the people he loved. He was a different kind of man. He was Carol's man of honor. She had suffered enough and he was damned if he was ever going to let her down again.

"A danger?" Daryl turned and ripped the photo from the wall and shoved it into Rick's hand daring him to see who Carol truly was. "She fuckin' loves your damn kids like they're her own!"

Rick studied the picture of his daughter. He'd never seen it before. Her expression automatically put a small grin on his face. She was a miniature reflection of her mother. He remembered Lori used to clutter their refrigerator door with photos of Carl from events she wanted to remember and celebrate. His eyes grew wide in full recognition of what he'd overlooked. Carol was the only mother Judith had known. His grin dissolved. He had taken Carol away from the people who needed her.

"I'm sorry," he choked out with tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Daryl was too numb and resentful to feel Rick's remorse. _Too little, too late._ _Damage's done. _Rick had annihilated his trust.

"Save it for Carol. If she'll have it. Your words don't mean shit to me now, _brother_." He spun on his heels and bitterly made for the exit, shoving the door open with a violent thrust and storming out into the night.

Hearing the commotion, Glenn and Michonne approached cautiously from the cellblock as Rick stared at the photo.

"Everything alright?" Glenn asked.

"How could I have missed it?" Rick wondered, pulling his eyes from the picture.

There was a long pause as he reflected on his interaction with Daryl.

"How could I not see that he loves her?"

"Grief can blind you from the truth," Michonne stated. "Been there myself. Caught in my head, talking to...ghosts. I was gone for a long time. You miss a lot when you're gone."

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Rick's betrayal had hurt Daryl worse than Merle ever had. Merle had been a selfish asshole, but he'd been upfront about it. Daryl wasn't sure he could ever trust Rick again. The energy from his anger was still coursing through his veins. He was still pacing in the near dark when Glenn came outside.

"Hey," he said keeping his distance when he saw Daryl's agitation.

Daryl acknowledged him with a glance, but didn't stop his pacing.

"I'm glad you found her. She belongs here. With us."

Glenn's reassurance brought Daryl's pacing to a halt. He began to settle.

"I totally get why you're angry. I get it. I mean, when Maggie-" Glenn stopped. He didn't want to think about how the Governor had humiliated Maggie. It was over and the Governor was dead. "I just…I understand. Whatever you need from me, know that I got your back. Okay?"

Daryl looked at his friend and nodded. "Thanks. Means a lot."

Glenn stayed with him as night fell and caught him up-to-date on the happenings around the prison. They had refortified the fence and made some other security improvements. He told Daryl that he and Maggie had been looking out for the kids, especially Lizzie and Mika.

"That Lizzie, I don't know," he worried. "There's something off about her. Did Carol ever say anything to you?"

"Yeah, said she was confused."

"I'll say. Hershel told me she thought the walkers could understand her. She almost got bit while she was in isolation. She saved my life though, apparently."

Daryl raised his eyebrow. "Thanks for lookin' out for 'em. I know Carol would appreciate it."

"Yeah, of course," Glenn nodded.

"How's Tyreese been? He know about any o' this?"

"I don't know. He's kinda been keeping his distance from Rick. Now that Sasha has recovered, I think he's better. I'm not sure what she's told him. Council's been busy with the repairs. I've taken him out on a few runs while you were gone. He's a nice guy. But he's still grieving."

Daryl's talk with Glenn helped to calm him down. Later, when he returned inside, Michonne greeted him with a warm bowl of oatmeal.

"What? They domesticate you already?" Daryl teased her.

"Say what you will, but you know that woman's gonna have my skin if I don't make you eat something."

He conceded with a sigh and took the bowl from her. _She would._ The thought almost had him smiling.

When he finished eating, he felt ready to check in on Carol. As Daryl approached he saw Beth exiting the cell with a bucket of dirty water and tears in her eyes. She put the bucket down and embraced him quickly. He stiffened from the surprise of it.

"Thank you for bringin' her home, Daryl," she murmured.

Her appreciation relaxed him. He brought his hand to her arm to acknowledge the small peace of mind she'd given him. She pulled away and looked him in the eye before gathering the bucket and heading off to dispose of its contents.

When he entered the cell, he noticed Carol was clean and dressed in her own clothes. There was a bag of saline solution hanging from the top bunk connected to a tube sticking out of her wrist.

"She gonna be okay?" he asked Hershel who was checking her pulse.

"She doesn't seem to have any internal bleeding. That's a blessing as she's got three broken ribs. Her injuries suggest some trauma to her head as well. But we won't know if there will be any effects on her memory until she wakes up. I've started the IV to help rehydrate her."

Daryl nodded. Then his thoughts turned darker.

"Was she-" He couldn't even speak the word aloud. He didn't want to imagine it.

Hershel knew what Daryl was asking about. The truth was too horrible to discuss openly. Hershel looked away, the tears in his eyes confirmed Daryl's suspicions. She was like a daughter to Hershel. He couldn't bring himself to complete the exam, but Michonne had volunteered. She confirmed the tearing and bruising that left no doubt as to what had occurred. Carol had been brutally raped, beaten, and left for dead.

Daryl felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He had slammed his fist into the wall until his knuckles bled. The resultant pain wasn't enough to mask the immense heartbreak he was feeling for Carol's torment. He started pacing again. He couldn't bear the helplessness he felt. He didn't save her. He couldn't stop it. Rick had left her out there to suffer and die. It was unforgivable.

"Son," Hershel considered Daryl exactly so, "it hurts all of us to know how she was mistreated. But you can't let your anger consume you. Rick is troubled. Scared even. He had no way of knowing."

"Don't," Daryl warned him. "You think you'd be as quick to forgive him if it were Maggie or Beth he threw out?"

Hershel paused to consider his question. "I'd like to hope I would."

Daryl shook his head. _Hopin' ain't the same as bein'._ He couldn't imagine it. "You're a better man than me."

"I don't think that's true."

"Why are you always makin' excuses for him anyway? You coddle him."

"Even a good man is prone to make mistakes. I've made quite a few myself. It's not the error that makes a man wicked, son, it's his lack of remorse for it that does. If you want to be angry at someone, you be angry at the men who did this to her. They are the ones without conscience."

"Oh, they'll get what's comin' to 'em," he seethed. "Trust me."

"I don't doubt your determination. Still, it won't change what happened. She's suffered a major trauma. There's no telling how it will affect her. We'll have to wait and see."

He walked over to the small table and picked up a small amber bottle.

"Beth found some pain killers in Caleb's medical kit. So we'll start her on these as soon as she wakes up. But I've made up a list of other supplies she'll need. I gave it to Michonne."

"I'll take Glenn and Bob in the morning," she reported from the doorway.

Daryl felt strange as the guilt rose up. Going out for supplies was normally his job. But he didn't want to leave. He was too worried about leaving Carol unprotected in the prison. He still wasn't sure about Rick even though he appeared remorseful, and he hadn't been able to speak with Tyreese yet.

"It should be me out there," he lamented.

"No, it shouldn't. You've got other responsibilities now," she reminded him.

_You ain't my problem!_ The words he'd yelled at Carol that night on the farm after Sophia died came flooding back to him. He'd had it all wrong. He had been in so much pain that he denied the truth even to himself. He'd cared about them both and Carol had known it. And despite all his attempts to thwart it, his caring for Carol hadn't stopped when Sophia came stumbling out of that barn. It had only grown. By some magical means Carol had captured his withered heart and revived him. While he cared about the welfare of the others, he'd realized he'd finally accepted that Carol was his priority. There was no going back.

"I don't trust Bob. He been drinkin'?" he asked Hershel. Bob had risked their lives for a bottle of whiskey he found on the medicine run at the veterinary school. He had even reached for his gun when Daryl had threatened to smash it.

"Not a drop as far as I know. We've been meeting twice a week for our 'Friends of Bill' club," he smiled at Daryl referring to their sobriety. "No need to be anonymous anymore. Remember, Bob's a trained medic. He'll be good to have along."

Daryl grunted his concession. He wasn't convinced, but he wasn't going with them either. He had to trust that Michonne would keep an eye on him.

After Hershel and Michonne left to retire for the evening, Daryl pulled the mattress off the top bunk and laid it on the floor near Carol. He didn't want to leave her alone. She was home where she belonged. Her family would take care of her now. She was already starting to look better now that she was dressed in her own clothes and her wounds were tended to. She looked more like Carol than the ghost he'd found. For the first time in over a month, a warm sliver of hope flickered in his chest. He felt like he could finally rest.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I'm overwhelmed by your support for this story! A special thank you to one of you lovelies who nominated me for TheCarylDaily's 2014 Fanfiction Awards. I feel so honored that you think so highly of me and this unfinished story. You have all been wonderfully patient for this chapter and I thank you. I was so excited to finally be finished that I rushed to get this update to you as soon as possible. So please forgive me for any typos. I love you guys! -jb

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The darkness was thick and foggy. Impenetrable. Carol felt like she was floating in one moment, but drowning in the next. She couldn't ever remember being seasick, but the nausea she felt was prominent as she lingered in the haze between the numbing aridity of unconsciousness and a complete flooding of her senses.

The crushing heaviness was pressing her down, deep down, into the center of the earth. It was like being buried under cold steel. _Not that._ She could feel the fire at the core burning her from the inside out. There was no air and then suddenly it was coming in like jagged glass. _Yes that._ A rank stench, hot and sour, dominated the space in between. _You'll get what you deserve. _Something shattered inside. Sharp white jolts were piercing into her. _Please!_

_Can't fight karma, bitch._ There was the sound of choking and then silence. Dead calm. Crimson red pools floating before her eyes. _Redredredredredredred._ The knife was in her hand, drenched in blood. _No one to hear you scream._ Sticky warmth oozing. _I had to do something._ Her stomach bubbled, the bile percolating in the back of her throat. Cold, threatening eyes were condemning her. _He'll kill you_. Down, down, down the hole she went. Too far gone. _It's me._

Hot and sour. There was a stinging cut across her skin. _You askin' for it?_ Ed's angry fist thrusting forward. _No! _ Fear dripping cold and wet. Crunching burst of pain. _Can't be._ Crushing weight pushing her down, squeezing all the air out of her lungs until it burned. Dirty paws all over. All over. Blood on her hands. _Be strong!_ Heaviness pressing down. _Redredredredred._ _Ed's dead. Ed's dead! ED'S DEAD_! Brown leaves. _Dead._ Dead calm. Paralyzed. Being held in the dirt. _Don't look! Don't look! _Warm oozing, down. Cold eyes. _They won't want you._ Birds chirping. _I don't want you here!_ Garbage, left outside. Wind blowing a tin can down the empty, quiet street. _Nothin' but trash._ _Please._ No air. _Too quiet._ Burning. Filth. _Redredred._ A cool breeze grazing her hot skin. Laughing man with bad teeth. _Bad, bad._ Hot and sour. _Dirty cunt's askin' for it. Gonna give it to ya real good. Not good, not good._

_Carol! No! Gonegonegone_. Cold eyes. _Left her. Left me._ White jolt_. _In the dark. _Can't be. _Up in the trees floating like a leaf. The leaves rustling in the wind. The crunching of dead leaves beneath heavy footsteps. Shattered and scattered in the wind. _Please._ Falling. Down in the filthy mud. _Thirsty._ Bad teeth. _You stupid fuckin' cunt! _Dark, cold ground. Her back up against the rough bark of a tree. _Surrounded._ Dark nothing. _Shhh!_ _Need to hide._ _Where's my knife?_ _So much blood._ Oozing. _Redredred_. Lying on the cool, hard cement. Sophia's scared face underneath the truck. Panicked whimpering. _No!_ Bad teeth. _I'll fuckin' break you._ _Be strong!_ _My baby's gone? Gonegonegone. _Down the dark hole. Gunshot echoing. Lying in the dirt. _Just kill me._ Squeezing sharp sting. _Kill you._ Jolting white. Hot and sour. _So tight._ _Redredred_. Sticky ooze. _Toss out the trash. _She was running fast through the trees. _Lost._ Bad teeth. _Hold her tight, don't let her get away_. _Run Sophia!_ Dirty, stinging twinge. _Gonegonegone._

Shadows whispering_. Not like this._ Spinning white light. Trees rustling. Babbling brook. _Water._ Jagged glass. _Thirsty. _Burning. _Tight tight tight._ Cold, dripping fear. _Take it._ Dead weight, sinking. _No one to hear you scream. _Down deep. _Nothing._

Carol tried to move but the sharp jolts of pain stopped her. She groaned. It was dark. She was on the water. Floating. Sinking. Floating again. Down, up, down. _All you had to do was keep an eye on her! _Far away, there was a sound of someone breathing. _Nowhere safe._ Heavy breathing. Hot and sour. _Dead._

Too deep. No air.

_Tight._

"No, no, no!" Carol screamed out in gasping breaths. The pain was searing. Her throat was on fire.

Suddenly, there was a too harsh light shining in her eyes, blinding her. Her head was throbbing. She squinted as a blurry figure approached her but her eyes wouldn't focus. _He'll kill you! _ She felt a stabbing pain in her chest as her heart raced. Was she having a heart attack?

"Shhh!" the gravelly voice said. "You're safe now."

_Where's safe? Can't hide._ She could barely push herself up she was so weak. Her head felt like a block of concrete. She flailed her arms to keep the figure from moving closer. She tried to move, but she felt like she was in quicksand. _Sinking. _The shadows and shapes around her started to spin.

"Stay away from me!" The words scraped in her throat like broken glass.

"Okay. S'gonna be okay. Ain't gonna hurt you. You thirsty?"

The male voice sounded familiar to her. _Can't be._ This wasn't happening. _It's not real._ She groaned again as she tried to move away. Her hand slipped and she was falling back into the mud. Something caught the back of her head, keeping her upright, _holding her down._ She stopped breathing.

"Thirsty," she echoed as she became acutely aware of her dire need for water and briefly ceased her struggling.

"Take these," the soft voice told her putting two small objects in her hand. "They'll help with the pain."

_Take away the pain._ The figure was offering her water. She swallowed the pills like they were large pebbles. She started choking. _If I'm lucky they'll kill me._ The water was cool but it still burned on the way down. _So thirsty._

"Easy now. Slow down."

She emptied the water bottle panting as she caught her breath. She gagged on the bile that had risen in the back of her throat. She coughed and choked at the same time. It hurt to breathe. Her heart was still racing. The spasms in her throat were so powerful she almost retched.

"S'okay. Just gotta breathe slow."

Her breath was coming in short, quick bursts. She had started to consciously exhale when she felt herself being slowly lowered down. _Down, down, down._ Resisting, she thrashed her arms at the figure. He brushed her arms away but didn't grab them. There was a twinge of pain at her wrist. Something was different about the environment she sensed, but she couldn't see well enough. There was no wind. Was she inside?

"No! No! Get off me! Where am I?" Her voice was full of fear she couldn't hide. "Where did you take me?"

The hazy figure sat back. "You're safe. Took you home."

_Home?_ She panicked. _Can't go back there._ "No, he'll kill me!" She struggled unsuccessfully to sit up again. The room was still out of focus as it spun around. "Where's my daughter? Where's Sophia? What have you done with her?"

The figure stiffened and moved away from her into the shadows.

"Where is she? Where is she?" Her frenzied voice grew louder.

"Shhh! Gonna wake everyone up. Ain't gonna let nothin' happen to you."

"She's sleeping?"

There was a long pause.

"Everyone's asleep 'cept you an' me."

She felt exhausted. She was starting to feel numb. She fought the fatigue. "Gotta find her." She pressed herself up again, but got dizzy and lost her balance.

"Whoa! Easy now," the man said catching her as she fell forward and guiding her back down.

"Get your hands off me!" she yelled at him.

The man let go of her immediately. "Ain't gonna hurt you. Just don't want you to hurt yourself s'all."

"I need to find Sophia. Sophia!"

She continued to struggle but the fatigue was gaining on her. Her eyelids started to get heavy.

"Shhh! She's restin' peacefully," the voice finally said gently. "Ain't no one hurtin' her."

Carol relaxed a little until she could no longer resist the drowsiness which overcame her.

"That's it. Jus' sleep."

She slid back down into her dark hole.

* * *

Daryl had heard Carol cry out and was up immediately, switching on the light trying to soothe her. She was wide-eyed with terror and completely disoriented. She kept trying to get up, but she was so weak she just kept falling over the edge of the bed. She panicked every time he touched her trying to keep her from hurting herself. It made him wince. She was afraid of him. They had made her afraid of him.

After Daryl gave her the pills, he watched her drink the water ravenously and wondered how long she had been out there without food or water. Concerned, he took a mental note to make sure she ate something the next time she woke up. Carol was so frail and uncoordinated as she tried to push him away. In a flurry of arms and legs, she had managed to pull the needle out of her arm. There was a sinking feeling along the front of his body as he listened to the desperate fright in her voice. It became clear to him that she didn't know where she was. _She even know it's me?_

Certainly, she wasn't herself. He felt the knife in his chest when she mentioned Sophia's name and staggered backwards from the blow. _What have you done with her?_ It was just strange, as if she had completely forgotten that her daughter was dead. He couldn't bear to tell Carol the awful truth. She was already hysterical. The sharp smell of fear was seeping from her pores. He couldn't be the one to break her heart again. _Never._ He was relieved when she finally fell asleep.

But her wild eyes haunted him when he closed his own.

In the morning, Hershel came in to check on her, rescuing Daryl from his nightmares. He had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he kept dreaming of that ravine where he had found Sophia's doll. He was wading in the creek and the water level kept rising. His boots got trapped in the mud and he was unable to move. He woke up when he was completely submerged, gasping for air every time.

"Any changes?" Hershel inquired.

Daryl shook off his fears and rubbed the fatigue from his eyes.

"Yeah, she woke up in the middle of the night. Terrified and thirsty as all hell. Had no idea where she was. Damn near fell outta the bed a few times tryin' to get up an' ripped that thing outta her arm."

He pointed at the empty saline bag which was now laying on the table. After she had fallen asleep he had taken it down and wrapped the tubes around it so she couldn't hurt herself with it. He stood up, picking up the mattress from the floor and placing it back on the upper bunk to make space for Hershel to move around.

"Gave her a couple o' those pills, too."

"Good. I'll have Beth brew some passion flower and lemon balm tea. That should help to calm her. We'll need to start her on a simple diet to build her strength up. Things that are easily digestible. Fresh fruit and vegetables first. Then maybe some rice. Once she tolerates that we can give her more protein. Beth can show you where the herbs and blackberries are growing just outside the fence. I think maybe some of the peas are finally ready in the garden."

Daryl nodded and cast a sorrowful glance at Carol. "She was kinda confused, too. She kept askin' for Sophia." Full of regrets, he looked down at his boots to hide his own grief. "I couldn't tell her."

"It's good that you didn't. Keeping her calm is in her best interest. We want to reduce her level of stress so that the healing process can be the most effective. For someone who's had a concussion, her behavior is not uncommon. It could be a while before we can tell if there's any permanent effects."

_Permanent effects?_ Daryl started to chew on the loose skin around his finger as he wondered what that might entail.

"Don't worry just yet, " Hershel advised him when he saw the troubled look on his face. "Let's just take it one day at a time."

Michonne stopped by outside the cell on her way to the kitchen before heading out on the run.

"How is she?"

"She's stable," Hershel replied.

The look on Daryl's face said he disagreed. He had the look of a wounded animal.

"His stubborn ass is gonna want to hold a vigil. Keep him busy. Make sure he doesn't hang out too long in here," Michonne warned Hershel as she nodded her head at Daryl.

"I'll try," Hershel laughed. He knew it would be a challenging task. No one could make Daryl do anything he didn't want to do.

"And take a damn shower. The fleas were bad enough, but I can smell you from here," she teased Daryl.

He threw her a dirty look. His hygiene was the least of his concerns.

"Before you go, I have a few things I want to add to the list," Hershel stated as he stepped out of the cell towards Michonne leaving Daryl alone with Carol.

As he watched over Carol's sleeping form, he knew Michonne was right. The waiting would only agitate him. Even now, the walls were growing uncomfortably close. He could feel the pressure building in his chest. He couldn't sit in the cell all day stewing about Carol. A chill of trepidation ran up his spine as he recalled her wild eyes and the way she looked through him. _That ain't her._

Shortly after Michonne, Glenn, and Bob had left to go on the run, Daryl went into the kitchen where Beth had finished making breakfast. Daryl noticed Beth shooting daggers with her eyes at Rick's back as he walked up the steps towards the outside door. She brightened somewhat when she saw Daryl. She served him a heaping bowl of oatmeal and offered him a cheerful, "Good morning."

Daryl nodded his gratitude as he accepted the bowl from her. _Damn oatmeal again._ The guilt rumbled in his gut as he wondered how much meat the others had been eating since he had been away. On top of everything, the fact that it could be a while before he could escape into the woods to hunt had him more than a little on edge. He wondered if Rick was still checking the snares and made the decision to check them later.

"Thanks. Everythin' alright?" he asked glancing back at Rick, who had already stepped outside, before meeting her eyes again.

"I know he did a lot to help us find this place, and I'm grateful for all that he's done. But I'm still mad at him," Beth explained keeping her voice low.

"You ain't the only one," Daryl grunted. "Does he know how you feel or do you just curse at him behind his back?"

"I don't wanna be disrespectful," she stated casting her eyes down at the pot of oatmeal.

"The way ya'll tiptoe around him," he grumbled shaking his head. "Good Lord! It ain't helpin' him. The man lives in denial. He don't need protectin'. He needs to hear the truth."

"But you don't have to serve him his food or rely on him for protection."

He could see fear in the girl's eyes and he didn't like it. It reminded him of the way Carol had looked at him after they had fled the farm. She hadn't known her own strength then, didn't know what she was capable of. He wondered if Beth believed she wasn't strong enough either. The way he saw it, the girl had lost just as much as the rest of them, if not more. She was as close to a kid sister as he ever had and it made him feel responsible for her. He wanted her to feel as strong as he reckoned she was and to learn to stand up for herself. Luckily, Daryl had heard this argument before so he felt comfortable offering her some advice.

"What're you talkin' 'bout? You don't gotta serve _nobody_. He ain't your master! Let him serve himself. It's enough that you cooked it."

"But Daddy said to-"

"Uh-uh. He's a good man, your father. I know he means well, but screw it. I'm tellin' you it ain't helpin'. Let Rick take care o' himself. There's more important things to do around here. And it ain't disrespectful to speak your truth. It's important. This ain't fuckin' Woodbury. We don't need another Governor. You smell bullshit, you call it. You hear me?"

Beth nodded at him and stirred the remaining oatmeal in the pot. Daryl took a breath to calm down. He hadn't meant to lecture the girl, but he didn't want her to be afraid to express her feelings. He'd made that mistake before and regretted it. He didn't want Beth to make the same error and suffer as a result the way he did.

He took a few bites of the oatmeal. "Hershel told me you know where the blackberries are growin'. That true?"

"Yeah, there's a bunch just past the tree line," she confirmed, lifting her gaze.

"Will you help me get some? For Carol, I mean. Your father said they'd be good for her to eat."

"Sure, you know I'd do anything for her."

After breakfast, Daryl took Beth out past the fences to gather the blackberries and the wild medicinal herbs Hershel had requested. The sky was a patchwork of fluffy white clouds. As they walked down the path, he saw Tyreese's dark profile looking out from the guard tower. Daryl felt the dread clenching in the pit of his stomach. He knew it wouldn't be long before the man would be coming around with questions. Before they went on the medicine run, he had told Tyreese he'd put a bolt in whoever killed Karen and David. It was a promise he'd uttered before he learned what Carol had done. Once he discovered the truth, he knew he could never make good on that promise. When Rick had told him what she had done, he had known immediately why she had done it. Karen and David weren't killed in cold blood like they had originally thought. He knew that because he knew Carol. She was the exact opposite of unfeeling. She felt everything deeply. She cared about them all, probably too much. Everything Carol did was for the benefit of someone else. She gave little thought to herself. _Anyone with eyes could see that._

Carl opened the gate for Beth and Daryl as they approached. Daryl followed Beth as she led him to a clearing in the trees where some blackberry brambles were growing. They worked quietly as they gathered the flowers and other herbs first, then the berries. Daryl kept one hand on his crossbow and stayed alert for stray walkers which were mostly attracted to the far side of the fence where the survivors had purposely set up the wind sculptures to draw them away from the gate. Beth noticed how the distress had etched into the lines of Daryl's face. He seemed older and harder since he'd left to search for Carol. Since they had come to the prison, she had seen him soften a great deal from when she had first met him on her family's farm. His concern for Carol had obviously taken a huge toll on him.

His brooding seemed to thicken the silence between them. Daryl got moody when he worried. Beth understood the reason for his concern. Yesterday, she had seen the extensive injuries on Carol's body as she cleaned and clothed her. She didn't understand how someone could be so cruel. As she contemplated this and tried to make sense of the situation, she picked the berries angrily and tossed them into the bowl she'd brought.

"Men are such assholes." She turned to Daryl, red-faced, when she realized she'd said it aloud. "Sorry, I didn't mean you."

"S'okay," he smirked. "I can be an asshole."

"But you're not cruel. Not like the Governor. Or the men who hurt Carol." Her brow knitted together as she tried to comprehend it all. "There was a girl from school, Pauline, I didn't really know her all that well. She was, um,_ raped_, at a party. People were really mean to her after. They said it was her fault. That she was askin' for it. I never understood why anyone would think that. Daddy just said, 'People can be ignorant fools.'

Daryl cringed as Beth spoke. He was trying to prevent nightmarish images of what happened to Carol from entering his mind. But the minute Beth said the word 'rape', his mind flashed to Carol's terrified eyes. He could smell the fear coming off her. His breath quickened as his blood started to heat up. His hands grew tense.

"It's not fair," Beth stated. "I don't care what Carol did to Karen and David. She didn't deserve this."

"Course not! Why? Someone say she did?" he asked growing suspicious. He was getting irritated by Beth's conversation. He flexed the fingers in his free hand while the other tightened around his crossbow defensively.

"No! They would never! I just- It's just not fair!"

"The world is full o' shit that ain't fair," he spat. "Ain't nothin' new about that."

Daryl started pacing trying to get a hold of his anger. Beth glumly went back to picking the berries. She felt guilty that she upset him.

"Maybe," she began to speak hesitantly again after a while, "maybe that's the point. So that when you find people who are decent and caring you can appreciate them." She looked at Daryl hopefully.

"Maybe," he shrugged.

He didn't want to be angry at Beth. It wasn't her fault. Maybe it was because she was usually so quiet, but he forgot sometimes that she was still so young and simply trying to make sense of their crazy world. She was just a kid and upset about Carol like he was. He stopped pacing and returned to helping her pick the blackberries.

Caught up in her thoughts, Beth accidentally pricked her finger on a thorn.

"Fuck!" she hissed sticking the affected finger in her mouth.

Daryl raised his eyebrow. He'd never heard the teen curse before and now she had done it twice within a few minutes.

"What?" she glared at him with a slight grin trying to lighten the heaviness in the air. "I can swear, you know. You told me to express my feelings."

"Never said you couldn't," he smirked. "It's just a natural development from hangin' out with a Dixon. Wouldn't be surprised if it was one of Li'l Asskicker's first words."

"Oh no, Daryl," she gasped, covering the smile that had spread to her lips with her berry-stained fingers. "Carol would be mortified."

"Nah, she won't mind." His face grew rigid again as he thought of Carol lying broken in the cell.

"She's gonna be okay," Beth asserted, cutting through the uncomfortable silence before it had a chance to settle in and do more harm.

Daryl stared at her uncertainly. He recalled how disoriented and afraid Carol was last night.

"She is," Beth insisted.

"Maybe. Your father said it was still too soon to tell."

"But Carol's strong."

The girl had a point. Carol had survived an abusive marriage long before he had met her. _She'd suffered more than enough._

"Damn straight." He wouldn't disagree, but it didn't stop him from worrying.

"Plus, she's surrounded by people who love her. Daddy always said that love is the greatest healer."

If Daryl hadn't discovered that truth from his own experience, he would have dismissed the girl as being naive. But he was a changed man because of love. Nevertheless, he wasn't convinced that everyone had loving feelings towards Carol. He still had to deal with Tyreese.

And then there was the issue of her memory. Carol hadn't remembered what happened to Sophia. He wasn't even sure if she knew it was him last night.

"What if she don't remember us?" he asked doubtfully.

"Then we help her to remember."

"I hope you're right. Your father said it might be a while before we know for sure."

"Don't give up, Daryl. She's here now. There's always hope as long as you believe in her."

The girl was smarter than he gave her credit for. "Don't plan to," he maintained. "Dixons don't give up."

The bowl was full of berries now. Unable to resist temptation, Beth took one off the top and popped it into her mouth.

"Mmm," she said. "They're so sweet. Carol's really gonna like 'em."

"You think so?"

Beth smiled and nodded her head. Daryl reached over and plucked a berry out of the bowl.

"Damn, that is good," he agreed after he tossed it in his mouth. He reached for a couple more and quickly ate them.

Beth turned and started towards the gate.

"Beth, hold up. I wanna check on those snares before we head back."

"Okay," she agreed and followed Daryl through the trees.

"Bingo!" Daryl called as he spotted a large, dead rabbit caught in the trap.

He worked quickly to remove it before he reset the snare and moved on to the next one. After all the snares were checked and found empty, Daryl and Beth headed back inside with their bounty.

As they passed the guard tower, Tyreese called after him. "Daryl!"

Daryl groaned to himself as he stopped and looked over his shoulder. He saw Tyreese jogging towards him.

"I heard you found Carol. How is she?" Tyreese inquired as he quickly caught up to him.

"Not good," Daryl said tersely shaking his head. He wanted to avoid a long conversation. As if to emphasize this, he looked Tyreese right in the eye.

"What happened?"

"Somethin' that never shoulda," he uttered before walking away without another word. He didn't want to get into it with Tyreese. In fact, he didn't want to talk about it at all. With anyone. Some things were better left unsaid. He didn't want to have to imagine any of it. He'd seen enough.

Tyreese just stood there, even more confused, watching as Daryl followed Beth back up towards the prison.


End file.
